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Your illegal name in watercolor |
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on a piss-stained Frisco truck |
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hoping some camera'd catch your face |
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when the rain comes down |
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and the fat worms show up like seared shut |
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half clotted blood vein sections, |
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fast fossil drying up. |
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You've got no God hand |
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in the when of a raindrop |
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and the paint that you used was water based. |
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The sound of light rain and burning leaves is the same, |
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The hound in night's brain learning dreams is untamed. |
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There'll be a time for drying up and |
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dying on sidewalks, |
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years for beards, |
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and the bushes in someone's backyard |
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damp dark in the shade |
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like an empty old seed pod. |
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Did you stay up all night |
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sprawled out over a xerox enlargement of my place card, |
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weeping backstage with the pretty plus one's ignoring you? |
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These are selfish times |
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These are selfish times |
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These are selfish times |
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I got shellfish dimes |
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and sanddollars. |
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I'll no longer be the whit or Gaylord's heavy. |
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The glasses, bear, and bigwig must go. |
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I did not play bigger bank in the backseat |
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of the cheese that seemed risky |
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but my jeans were called husky's. |
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I wrote this one on chipped dead elephant ivory |
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and when they come I close the closet door. |
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I wanted to breathe on beat |
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and go a fifth higher |
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than my physical voice was coined for. |
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I wanted to serve with hunger |
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but my gut split |
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and the hunger men poured into war. |
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These are selfish times |
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These are selfish times |
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These are selfish times |
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I got shellfish dimes |
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and sanddollars. |
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Did you stay up all night |
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sprawled out over a xerox enlargement of my place card, |
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weeping backstage with the plus one babes? |
